


If

by PrettyThief



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon - Book, Canon Compliant, F/M, Light Angst, Nature, Post - A Dance With Dragons, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 12:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyThief/pseuds/PrettyThief
Summary: A slightly angsty, mostly fluffy snapshot of post-endgame life on Tarth for Jaime and Brienne.





	If

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics below from [If It's the Beaches](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1cioJBlkHs) by The Avett Brothers.
> 
>   
_If it's the beaches' sands you want_   
_then you will have them_   
_If it's the mountains' bending rivers_   
_then you will have them_   
_If it's a wish to run away_   
_then I will grant it_   


The lake was small, but it was deep. Jaime thought that he could probably jump from his place on their raft to a sandy beach on either side of them, had he felt a little more confident that the device would not capsize the moment he pushed off. As they had wound their way through the old, patchily lit forest at dawn, Brienne had told him that the lake was the only one on Tarth.

“You promised to tell me the rest of the story,” he reminded her, stretched out on his back with his arms resting comfortably behind his head and golden hand glinting in the late morning sunlight. The silence between them was finally settling into something comfortable after several days of strained quiet. He was grateful that she had upheld her promise to show him her favorite places on her home island despite the chilliness between them. _Of course she had_.

She blinked at him blankly from where she sat next to his feet, cross-legged and resting her weight on palms stretched out behind her. Her head had been tilted back and eyes closed, allowing the sun to wash over her. The sight of her at peace as she had been just a heartbeat before made him almost wish he had not spoken at all. But he knew they needed more words than had been spoken of late.

“Galladon Lake,” she intoned slowly, shifting her gaze to look out past him at the impossibly blue waters. “Galladon of Morne was called the Perfect Knight. He’s the most celebrated figure to ever hail from Tarth. Legend says that he fought a dragon so enormous that when he slew it, the weight of its falling body created this lake. Galladon is said to have wept at the sight of such a glorious creature dead in the dirt, and his tears filled the crater the dragon had created. The water here is the purest in Westeros, as Galladon himself had been the purest knight.” Her eyes deliberately met his then, as blue as the waters around them. “He carried a magic sword. The Just Maid—gifted to him by the Maiden herself as a token of her love.”

“Mmm,” was all Jaime managed for a moment, considering the weight of her words. “That is a ridiculous story, Brienne.” He smiled softly up at her, hoping to indicate that he meant no harm.

She bristled, seeming to have not caught on, sitting upright and pulling her hands into her lap. “My brother was called Galladon.”

Jaime sat up at that as well, the raft swaying gently beneath them. She had never spoken to him of her brother, though he had spotted a large portrait of a young boy that could only have been the son of Selwyn Tarth at Evenfall Hall. He wanted to respond but thought better of it and instead just held her gaze with his face maintained as neutrally as possible. When she did not carry on, he smiled again, encouraging.

“He drowned when he was eight. I was four. I barely remember him, but I know he was tall for his age, and brave. Braver than I’ve ever been.”

Jaime frowned, climbing carefully to his knees. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice stern. “Don’t sell yourself short. Your brother was brave? _So are you_.”

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile flit across her face, but she quickly looked down at her hands. She was still hurting, he knew. With Cersei apologies had been easier. All he had to do was whatever she wanted. But Brienne was different. Brienne would never just _tell _him what she wanted. They had been on Tarth for a fortnight, publicly betrothed only half that, and already Jaime had succeeded in offending her.

He worried at his lip for a moment, knowing what she needed to hear, and wishing such things did not come so difficult for him. The wind caught in the trees, pulling their wooden float along with it. In the distance, he could hear the rattle of cicadas in the mid-spring air. For what seemed an eternity, no other sounds existed around them.

Jaime inhaled deeply, curling his legs under him to mirror her pose. “I’m sorry, Brienne.” The words did not hurt him as much as he had thought that they might. “I was wrong to speak for you to your father. You will be the protector of Tarth after him, not me. You’re right to be upset with me.”

She sighed heavily, wearing a miserable look that did her face no favors. “You will be my husband. I suspect I should just … accustom myself to having you speak for me.”

He should have known there was more to her despondency than just his conversation with Lord Selwyn. “It won’t happen again.” He held her gaze intently. When she tried to look away, he caught her chin with two fingers but did not try to make her look at him, applying only the gentlest pressure to her skin. She did eventually look, of her own accord, and his heart sank to see tears in her eyes. “I swear to you. Your word will be as good as mine in our marriage, and better than mine on Tarth. If it’s a small wedding you wish for, then a small wedding you shall have. It truly matters not to me.”

A sob escaped her then, and she glanced away from him again, her chin falling to her chest. Jaime closed the distance between them, carefully pulled her into his arms and was pleased when she allowed it. He had not known how upset she would be to have him begin planning their wedding, and even then, only at her father’s request. He did not think she would have any interest in such affairs. So far, she had spent most of her time back on Tarth practicing swordplay in the courtyards and reacquainting herself with the common folk she would one day serve as Evenstar. Jaime had intended to handle the matters that did not bring her as much joy as others might. He realized now that he did not even know which matters those were. But he would have a lifetime to learn.

“Thank you,” she said after a long stretch of quiet.

He placed a kiss into her hair in response, the scent of lavender and sea salt mingling with the scent of pine from the trees lining the beaches. They caught another soft gale of wind and he waited for the waters to still again before he spoke. “Whatever you desire, Brienne," he murmured into her ear. "You may not believe me yet, but all you must do is speak it, and I would cut down a thousand men for you to have it.”

She chuckled at that, a sound warm in his ears. “You need not cut down anyone for me, Ser Jaime.”

“No,” he agreed, smiling a smile she could not see. “And I do thank you for it, my lady. I will admit it is a great relief to be able to rest my blade at your feet. I fear I have grown rather tired of cutting men down.”

He could feel her relax into him and knew she was smiling too. They sat on their raft in silence, Brienne with her head resting against Jaime’s shoulder, his arms around her waist. After some time, he eased them onto their backs. His stomach fluttered when she nestled under his arm to rest her head on his chest, her body pressed against him.

They had not been so close since their relationship had changed to something deeper. Not since they had agreed in the lust of battle that in the unlikely event they both survived that longest of nights, perhaps they should just marry. He had been more surprised than he had ever been before when, in the early pink light of that first new day, she had approached him to remind him of their pact. _Of course she had._

Although they had both laughed about it when he had made his proposal, he had been serious in his offer and could not have dreamed then that she would actually believe him. But there she had been, clear blue eyes glittering, and her face set with determination. His instinct for her sincerity had been to make a joke. Instead he had bitten his tongue and quietly pulled her into his arms, holding onto her tightly while the faces of everyone they had fought alongside had looked at them curiously.

Jaime’s fingers curled into hers at the memory, and she squeezed his hand as though she knew what he was thinking. He closed his eyes, content to have the wind blowing through their hair and the sun on their faces. After everything, he knew this was a better life than he deserved, and he wondered what he had ever done for the sun to choose to shine on him so.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic in this fandom and my first fanfic in probably 10 years. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
